it's 9:21 a.m., on 2001-05-11 - moods.
~
http://www.livejournal.com/users/pollymel/day/2001/05/10
Apparently, Al makes magic.
I miss my magic; I miss having something that actually means something to say.
River is talking about wanting to have more angry music, but now that she does, her family is away so she has no one to get mad at. I want to ask her, how much do you love me, but I don't really want to know the answer. In the literal sense, she's going to say, not nearly enough to write you that wmf that you want. In the metaphorical sense, we could get Iz and Ricky, and that's just, it's not.
I don't have a wall there right now, and so it's nothing we can talk about if I want to stay safe. We're safe, because we're always safe, but there's us, and then there's me. And those things stay less separate than they should.
I have fear, because I don't really want to be Izzy. It's like waking up and hoping that you haven't dreamed about falling while you were asleep, or, hoping that when you sit up in bed, it's not going to be raining. But, you live in the pacific northwest, so it's *likely*, but not absolute.
Hear the crackling of that bonfire, and maybe a few chords on a guitar?
I'm thinking, I should listen to U2, because they talk about bedouin fires, and no one else does. But then, I should write about Spike in the subway tunnels and talking to the alligators just to stop from going crazy, too.
I have thirst, as well, but juice is all the way downstairs.
And I forgot to bring up my cd binder, so instead of U2 I have to settle for the anthem of futility. Maybe some extra knowledge from Fiona thrown in for fun-- Pete's theme song, and why can't I get that vision of him, refusing to be naked and laying against the pillows, while he lights a smoke
That's right. Because I have shame, and some guilt, in amongst all those cravings for orange juice and pie.
~*~
I don't know if y'all have noticed, but I'm using journal entries to avoid doing anything else of importance. Like, shower, and find the outside world. Who wants to find that, anyway. It has a really high blue ceiling, and it's hot and smells like air pollution, and the people are all too densely packed and hot.
Summertime in the city. Half the time I love sitting on the pavement, and half the time I wish everything would just go the fuck away.
--it's okay, don't need to say it--
I had a lot more things in right here, but then I cheated and I posted this section to livejournal instead because, really, they were about writing, not about me, so they fit better there. They were things I'm working on right now-- are things I am working on right now-- and so, and so.
I keep switching between being bloody grateful I don't have anything to do for two months except drag my ass to school twice a week, and maybe do some readings... and being really bored. It depends who's online, and how tired I am, as to whether I find myself grateful or resenting the spare time, and that's silly, even though it's not.
I should appreciate the spare time, even more than anything, but I don't.
The little imood.com thing on the left there is really neat. But the problem is, I can't be bothered to scroll through the five hundred choices, so I'm going to end up sticking to 'bored', 'addicted', 'amused', and possibly 'horny' because I know it's gotta be there.
There isn't one that says, 'um.' And there isn't one that says 'gypsy', I don't think, but claire made me a little picture with 'gypsy wisdom' on it and a picture of Pete which is just darling.
River and I are writing a telepathic horror story. At one point, one of us mentioned an azaelea bush, and it dying out. I don't even know what an azaelea bush looks like. --I have a tendency to write about things which I do not know.
And sleepy. My imood is always sleepy.
One more thing before I go: claire said this about addiction. I don't think I can say any more than that today but to add that addiction is horrible. It's the crutch you fight your whole life sometimes every second of the day.... I wouldn't wish it on anyone. Not even if it was love."
I thought I'd share.~
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